


offshoots

by their_dark_materials



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: A Not So Tragic Miscommunication, Amanda Rollins is Chaotic Good, Canon Compliant, Carisi and Dodds are Best Bros, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Rafael Barba, Slow Burn, To a point, romantic comedy of errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25520437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/their_dark_materials/pseuds/their_dark_materials
Summary: Rafael has a problem.One tall, loud,detectiveof a problem.For Barisi Summer Exchange 2020.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 98
Collections: Barisi Summer Exchange 2020





	offshoots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perpetfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/gifts).



> PROMPT: Rafael has decided, by god, he is gonna ask out Sonny Carisi, and he walks into Forlini's one night prepared to do exactly that, and then Mike Dodds joins the squad and he and Sonny click instantly, and Rafael figures he doesn't have a chance. But, it turns out they're just instant best friends, and Mike has been helping Sonny get the courage to ask out Rafael.

Rafael has a problem.

Actually, he has two problems. It’s just that his first problem has developed a pesky little offshoot that’s steadily growing into its own and he has no idea how he’s going to fix it — or if he’s even going to try.

So really, when you think about it, it’s just one problem. 

One loud, tall, _detective_ of a problem.

The kind of problem he’s too old to be having. The kind of problem that has you lying face down on your office couch and silently screaming into a cushion because you’re trying to take a nap so you can do more work, but all you can picture is a nice pair of dimples and a hopeful pair of eyes and as they look at you like you could make him the happiest man in the world if you just said yes to the age-old question: “You comin’ counsellor?”

 _That_ kind of problem.

Of course, Rafael had dealt with this particular problem the way he deals with most of his problems. One sharp word and a withering look later and he’d practically scurried back to his office, less than eager to be surrounded by day-old coffee and a mountain of paperwork. At least here it’s safe. At least here he isn’t faced with the constant reminder that _this_ problem has a way of making him slip up sometimes, loosening himself in ways he doesn’t with anyone else; his heartbeat speeding up anytime they so much as lock eyes, brighter blue ones seeking out his saltier green in hopes of some kind of acknowledgement.

(Sometimes, Rafael is so weak he can’t help but give in to it, nodding his approval at Carisi with that half-smile Liv calls “Classic Rafa.” His insides turn to mush when he does that, vibrating on a whole other plane when Carisi so much as smiles his response, boundless enthusiasm practically radiating off of him at this bit of faint praise.)

 _He’s been working hard_ , Rafael tries to tell himself on days when that happens, recalling all the law textbooks piled around Carisi’s work desk. It’s a miracle he manages to get anything done, let alone that his case notes are so efficiently organised.

 _He could do with some encouragement_ , Rafael reluctantly concedes, thinking back to the sharp upturn in the quality of Carisi’s random asides since the brief time he spent shadowing him. Most of what he’s saying now is more than case-relevant. Half the time, he steals the words right out of Rafael’s mouth before he can say them, leaving the lawyer to play snarky catch-up.

_Maybe I should join them for that drink after all._

And that’s why this is a problem. Rafael Barba doesn’t just _give_ out compliments. And he certainly doesn’t keep glancing at his office clock thinking about how he still has enough time to make it down to Forlini’s for a drink with the squad, or how if he hurries now he might be able to convince Carisi to stay for one more drink, long enough to muster up the courage to ask him out — or better yet, lean forward and _kiss_ him.

(Of course, the real problem, which Rafael refuses to admit to himself except late at night when he’s on the very edge of slumber, is that he very much wants all of this. And if he’s being really, _really_ honest — which, some nights he is — he’s wanted all of this for a while now. Only he’s not sure if it can happen.)

 _Carisi’s not gay_ , Rafael reminds himself for the third time that day, mentally turning over their latest interaction earlier in the evening. It had seemed like the detective had hung back after court just to ask him out to drinks personally, even standing a few steps lower so they’d actually be at eye-level when he’d extended the invitation.

 _He’s like that with everyone_ , a small voice in Rafael pipes up. He doesn’t dwell on why it sounds a lot like his mother’s. Instead, his mind is already replaying the look on Carisi’s face when he’d told him he’d chosen work instead: a mixture of unsurprised disappointment settling on his features as the cold fall wind caused his hair to flutter in the breeze a little, his gelled down coif coming unstuck.

 _Or maybe, he isn’t_ , a louder voice says — sounding a bit like Liv during one of their late-night catchups. _Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stayed back and lingered._

Carisi _had_ lingered, Rafael thinks. He’d stayed a beat longer, even after Rafael had issued his response and was preparing to walk away, as if his presence might cause him to change his answer. (It almost had, which Rafael figures is part of the point. He wonders if Carisi’d been able to sense that.)

The longer he thinks about it, the sadder Carisi’s expression seems to get — and the more Rafael’s resolve starts to crumble in the face of it. As much as he doesn’t like thinking about the way Carisi makes him feel — all young and flirty like a kid straight out of college, rather than a jaded ADA, still harbouring dreams of a judgeship — he hates the thought of actually hurting his feelings a whole lot more. There’s a fine line between rudeness and cruelty.

And just like that, Rafael finds himself sliding to his feet and searching for any kind of reflection as he tries to smooth out the wrinkles of his outfit. He usually knows better than to lay down with his waistcoat still buttoned as he had been a few moments ago, but today was a bit of an emergency. (He never even got around to unpacking his briefcase, like he usually does. It’s still sitting where he’d tossed it onto his coffee table.)

“It’s just a drink,” Rafael mutters to himself, running his fingers through his short hair, as if that’s going to really “fix” it. From what he can see in the mirror over his bathroom sink, it doesn’t really do much. But it does bolster his confidence.

“One little drink.”

He eyes the dark circles under his eyes and the faint hint of a stubble that’s already starting to take shape on his jaw — not that he can do anything about that at this late hour. If he tries to shave right now, he’ll lose precious seconds. Carisi’ll leave and then all of this will be pointless. His getting off the couch and going all the way to Forlini’s will be pointless.

“What’s the _worst_ that can happen?” He asks aloud as he shrugs on his suit jacket.

He tries not to actually imagine it.  
  


:::::

  
Turns out imagining it would have been the best thing in this situation, because the moment Rafael enters the bar he sees that his worst nightmare has come to life — and worse, it’s one of his own making.

Because there sits Carisi — tucked away in a corner under dim, dim lights — with a big, fat grin, gesturing eagerly towards another man, this one a little older, with short dark hair, and a soft smile that’s a matching pair to the detective’s.

_An offshoot growing out of an offshoot._

Rafael tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. He really hadn’t let himself even consider this. That maybe turning down Carisi’s invitation yet again would cause him to go looking somewhere else, somewhere younger, and handsomer, and more willing to listen as he spins yet another one of his tales. Heaven knows which family member he’s blabbering on about this time.

Some small part of Rafael bristles at the thought. He’s definitely going to need a stiff drink.

He waits a second longer, trying to see if Carisi will notice he’s here, like he always seems to do when Rafael’s around, a human sunflower twisting around to find him so he can make a dumb comment. (He’d never admit it to his face, but Rafael actually misses it right now; misses the loud vowels of that bombastic Staten Island accent, Carisi somehow growing impossibly more Italian American by the second.)

But Carisi doesn’t turn, doesn’t even bat an eyelid, still deep in conversation with this other man, his gestures shrinking and his body almost quieting with each passing moment. Rafael’s never seen the detective sit this still — not even when he’s typing up case notes.

To say it does wonders for his body would be an understatement. Carisi’s already long limbs are now elongated further, his right leg stretching out and showing off the clean lines of slate grey slacks, while his white dress shirt with its folded back sleeves and top button undone, strains nicely against his tie-less chest.

It’s all held together by Carisi’s still-buttoned up waistcoat, which only accentuates the lean cut of his torso. If Rafael hadn’t needed a drink before, he certainly does now, his mouth having run dry at Carisi’s general vibe. At how he seems older, more mature, _and more Rafael’s type_. Because in every other life, _this_ is who Rafael would be going for.

The other man says something and Carisi laughs out loud, but it doesn’t carry across the room. It stays near him, smaller, and sweeter.

Rafael swallows thickly and makes his way to the bar. It’s the kind of night that calls for whiskey.

“Barba, fancy seein’ you here.”

Rollins’ Georgian accent bleeds through as strongly as Sonny’s sometimes, though it’s never been _as_ brazen.

Rafael turns to find her standing to his right, hair down and usual blazer missing. The pink of her top makes her look softer.

“You know what they say,” he deadpans evenly. “All work and no drinking makes me a cranky lawyer.”

Rollins cracks a smile and seemingly ignores his words. “Well, we’re glad you finally joined us.”

“You sure about that?” Rafael says thickly, trying to keep the sourness out of his voice as he nods over at Carisi and his new laugh-inducing boyfriend. He can’t bring himself to look at either of them for too long.

“I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

It’s a lie, because he wants nothing more than to march over and stick his tongue down Carisi’s throat. It’s best to nip this problem in the bud before it becomes a _proper_ offshoot.

Rollins looks confused until she peers over his shoulder. Then she smiles and chuckles warmly. Rafael’s gut twists in betrayal.

 _Great_.

“Oh. I see. You met Mike Dodds,” Rollins continues, shaking her head. “Better known as Carisi’s boyfriend.”

She grins and nudges him as she’s saying the last part. Not that it makes it any easier to listen to.

“Dodds as in _Captain_ Dodds? Dodds as in your _boss_?”

Rafael can barely hear himself over the dull thudding that is his pulse in his ears. Because if this man is who Rollins said he is, then it means two big things: that Carisi’s into men after all, and that he’s currently not single like Rafael has been assuming.

“The one and only,” Rollins nods as she signals a drink order of her own. Another bottle of beer by the looks of it.

Still stunned, Rafael turns to take another look — or if he’s being honest, to better size up the other man, still thrown by his having not known about him. Apparently Carisi can yammer on about anything known to man, but he forgets to mention _this_ very pertinent detail about his personal life.

Rafael studies the younger Dodds’ face for any hint of his father, but he comes up empty within moments. Though to be fair, his eyes had kept drifting over to Carisi the whole time, the detective’s whole body now angled towards Dodds, having moved closer during the course of the conversation. (Rafael has half a mind to tell them to get a room — or better yet, to tell Carisi to dump the other man and get said room, only with _him_. He’s sure he could make him forget Dodds’ son if given a few hours. Rafael’s always gotten rave reviews in the bedroom.)

He’s pulled away from his thoughts by the arrival of their drinks, when he turns towards Rollins he finds her watching him carefully; cool blue detective’s eyes studying his face. There’s a twinkle in them he doesn’t care for.

Rafael holds up his glass of whiskey as if to cheers, but Rollins ignores him to start walking past.

“Come on. Let me introduce you.”

Rafael sighs. He has no other choice but to follow her.  
  


:::::

  
This time Carisi definitely notices him, face lighting up like Rafael just told him he could shadow him for as many cases as he’d like; blue eyes twinkling as his face splits into a grin. He almost doesn’t hear him exclaim, “Barba! You actually made it!”

It takes everything in Rafael not to smirk over at Dodds, to not mark his territory like some jealous lover. (By and large, Rafael tries not to put his feelings out on display, especially when it comes to unaccounted variables like Dodds. There’s no telling how he might react.)

So instead, he just focuses his attention solely onto Carisi, nodding back somewhat jovially. “I made a sizable dent in my paperwork after all. Thought I’d reward myself with a little nightcap.”

_Also, I thought I could maybe ask you out. But ignorance is bliss after all._

In his chest, his heart gives a reluctant _thump_. It feels like the jab of a particularly boney elbow.

Rafael takes a seat where Rollins gestures: across the table from Carisi, and right next to Dodds. He wonders if he can sue her for the emotional torture she’s putting him through, but then _that_ would require some explanation.

“Hi. Mike Dodds.” He’s already reaching out to introduce himself, Rafael shakes his hand politely.

Up close, Dodds’ suit is well-tailored in a way other detectives’ outfits are not, but still understated as if to hide it. So it seems maybe the detective is trying to make something of himself without relying on his father’s name, Rafael may not like it, but he still respects it. He’s pretty much as self-made as they come, and he’s never seen even one of his Harvard Law classmates try and fit in like this. Then again, most lawyers aren’t interested in law enforcement, and it’s even rarer to find vice versa.

 _Except for Carisi_ , Rafael reminds himself. But to be fair, everything about Carisi is unusual to begin with. For one, he’s always swinging by Rafael’s office with food of all kinds, or always trying to catch him after a trial so they can discuss it in play-by-plays. He types out meticulous case notes that he brings over in person, always trying to linger like he’s building up to ask him something. Up until today, Rafael had thought it might be the glimmer of a _romantic_ interest, but now he knows it’s strictly professional.

“Rafael Barba,” he eventually replies, still holding Dodds’ hand and shaking it.

“Your reputation precedes you,” Dodds looks from Rafael back over to Carisi, smiling at his boyfriend knowingly.

“Well, I wouldn’t believe _everything_ Carisi says,” Rafael responds before he can stop himself. He tries to not bristle so obviously at the way Carisi’s cheeks turn pink under Dodds’ gaze, looking away as if overcome with a sudden rush of shyness. “I turned down his last two requests to shadow me.”

“Oh come on, Barba,” Carisi protests, his gaze fully on Rafael now. His smile only makes Rafael’s stomach flutter harder. “You know I’d never do something like that.”

He doubles down, one hand held up like he’s about to take an oath. “Scout’s honour.”

Coming from Carisi, Rafael believes it. Everything about him screams “Former Boy Scout.”

“Actually, my father’s the one who mentioned you,” Dodds brings up the elephant in the room himself. Somehow, it comes out modest.

After a lifetime of people eager to throw their weight and connections around, Rafael finds it almost refreshing.

“Then I _definitely_ wouldn’t believe a word he says,” Rafael smiles, albeit ruefully. “God knows I give him enough grief as it is.”

“But that’s part of your charm,” Rollins pipes in, from over on his left. He’d almost forgotten she’s been sitting there. She flashes him a teasing smile and sips her beer, “Besides, I’m sure you’ve heard plenty worse.”

“Yes,” Rafael says, eyeing her carefully. “Sometimes from your squad itself.”

She grins cheekily, as if it’s no big deal. And if he’s being honest, it really isn’t. It’s not his job to make friends with everyone he works with. It’s his job to get justice.

“Still,” Dodds says, voice a little louder and tone just shy of diplomatic. Rafael wonders how much of that is learned and how much is natural. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise, detective.” Rafael barely manages to lie through his teeth. He hadn’t missed the way Carisi’s eyes had immediately flitted to Dodds’ face, hanging on his every word like he sometimes does for Rafael. It feels silly to be jealous, but that is _his_ look. It feels strange to see another man receive it — even if said man is Carisi’s actual boyfriend.

He holds up his glass and Dodds clinks his beer bottle against it. A quick survey of the table reveals that Rafael’s the only one who’d ordered whiskey. But then again, this situation warrants it.

“So,” Rafael clears his throat, his gaze wandering back to Carisi at the last second. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

He drags his eyes back to Dodds’ face. “Not a lot of detectives are clamouring to join SVU.”

Instantly, his mind flashes back to Carisi and his first days on the squad. (And of course, that god awful moustache.)

He hadn’t thought him capable of sticking with the team, hadn’t thought him to have the depth and care required to cut it in this department — especially after having been bounced around like he had been. But like most other things, Sonny Carisi Jr. has proven him wrong several times over. Starting with him even having a fellow detective _boyfriend_.

“Well, I passed my sergeant’s exam,” Dodds explains easily, looking Rafael in the eye. “And 1PP thought those would be a good fit for me.”

Then he turns to his right and nudges a beaming Carisi. “Can’t say I have any complaints.”

Rafael allows himself to look at Carisi too; at the way the dim light catches in the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and the slight shadow caused by the swoop of hair on his forehead, extra-strength gel finally giving up the fight against gravity. No, he doesn’t have any complaints either. If anything, his little “problem” has become the best part of his job, something he looks forward to daily. (If you asked Rafael to pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, he’d be hard pressed to say. Instead it’s been like waking to a sunrise, his heart adjusting gradually.)

“I didn’t either, when I first started.” Carisi’s speaking now, patented enthusiasm soaking into his words.

Rafael’s questioning him before he even finishes, mouth quirking up in a smile he can’t help. “So you’re saying you have complaints _now_?”

Beside him Rollins snorts in amusement. In front of him, Carisi seems to turn a bright pink, mouth open and right hand moving like he’s formulating an explanation of some kind. Rafael patiently waits for it.

He thinks he knows where this is going. His cheeks are already warming. (Maybe he shouldn’t have picked on Carisi as hard when he started. Maybe he should have done a better job of listening. _That’s_ why Rafael’s stuck here now, not having known the other man is both gay and dating.)

“Not really,” Carisi finally replies. “But there’s always room for improvement.”

He doesn’t shy away from meeting Rafael’s gaze, eyes filled with a steely confidence. It’s after hours now, he can give as good as he takes. And now he had a boyfriend to defend him.

“Spoken like a true lawyer,” Rafael says thoughtfully, a glint in his eye. It’s true, but he wonders what Dodds makes of it, his boyfriend joining the other side.

His boyfriend joining _Rafael’s_ side.

(For a fleeting second he harbours thoughts of Carisi becoming an ADA, of them working side by side down in the court building. He’s loath to admit it, but being shadowed has struck a chord in his chest, one that likes bouncing ideas off another person, and hearing their thoughts as his sounding board. The fact that it _only_ applies to Carisi, rather than anyone else, is something he refuses to unpack, knowing already the meaning of the weight of it.)

“ _This_ is why everyone hates you guys,” Rollins chimes in, gesturing between Rafael and Carisi. “You’re always talking about being lawyers.”

“Well, I’m not a lawyer _yet_ ,” Carisi points out, quickly glancing at Rafael before looking back at her, almost like he’s certain he’ll object to the comparison if he doesn’t do so first.

“But you will be soon,” Dodds states confidently before Rafael has a chance to follow his line of questioning — namely focusing on why Carisi’s nervous that he may be insulted at the comparison. (Okay, he knows why. But he always thought his little jokes bounced off the other man. Now, it would seem otherwise.)

“He’s taking the bar in a few weeks,” Dodds explains to Rafael, and yet again, this little bit of news throws him.

Carisi spent what had seemed like _hours_ yesterday showing him pictures of his niece. He hadn’t thought to mention that the biggest exam of his life was coming up?

The second that thought sets in, something in Rafael’s gut starts to lurch. It’s a terrible and awful confirmation. It would appear that all his little digs have probably added up, and now Carisi’s worried that telling Rafael might shake his confidence.

Why else would he not be making eye contact right now?

“Shouldn’t you be home studying?” Even Rollins sounds mortified. Maybe the detectives understand the difficulties of attending law school after all.

Carisi doesn’t answer, just turns a brighter pink.

And yet again, Rafael finds himself speaking before he can think. “I think Carisi here is allowed a night off.”

And then, because he needs to make amends for all the harm done. “But I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Carisi. I think you’ll do just fine.”

He follows it up with what he hopes is a warm smile, hoping Carisi will see that he means what he said this time. But somehow it does the opposite, Carisi turning a deep shade of red as he quickly looks away, left hand fidgeting with the edge of the label on his beer bottle.

Rafael panics. Carisi probably thinks he’s mocking him now. He kicks himself for that first “Booyah, Fordham Law.”

But before he can rectify it, Dodds is speaking again, words light and tone easy.

“See,” He gently nudges Carisi again, Rafael’s eyes snag on the movement of that right elbow as it jabs lightly at Carisi’s side. He’d give anything to be able to do that.

“Even Barba here thinks you’re gonna ace it.”

At Dodds’ encouragement, Carisi cracks a smile; one much smaller and more bashful than his usual ones, almost like he can hardly believe it.

Rafael feels a sudden frisson of jealousy, a kick in his chest where his heart is. But then he remembers that _he’s_ the one that caused this mess in the first place and clamps his mouth shut. No use adding fuel to a fire.

“Uh thanks,” Carisi finally replies, directing his words to Rafael. It sounds like he genuinely means it.

“But I still have a lot of studying left to do,” he points out. “Luckily, the Lieu said she’d give me a lighter case load that week.”

Rafael smiles. Knowing Liv, she’s absolutely going to. He doesn’t think Carisi had even needed to ask for it.

(He’d actually once let slip to her that he thought what Carisi was doing was incredibly impressive, that him managing to balance his law school studies with the gruelling hours the squad tends to put in, was nothing short of Herculean. She hadn’t said anything at the time, but she’s given him this look. Rafael’s cheeks burn every time he thinks of it, even that moment too close to a confession.)

“You know,” Dodds grins, looking at Rafael and then at Carisi again. “I’m sure the Counsellor could help with that.”

And now, he’s looking back at Rafael, dark eyes twinkling excitedly. “He knows what it’s like _and_ he passed his.”

Rafael glances over at Carisi, who’s currently staring at Dodd like he’s trying to will him to stop talking, lips pressed together to stop himself from shouting his disagreement. It would have been kinder to just _tell_ Rafael that he doesn’t want his help. Rafael tries not to wince so obviously.

“I’m sure Barba’s too busy,” Carisi says, looking at Rafael apologetically. Like he thinks this could be considered a major imposition, and _not_ something out of his worst nightmares.

“Actually, I’m not,” Rafael blurts out, staring straight at Carisi. “I’d love to help you study for the bar.”

He swallows roughly, tongue too thick in his throat. “As Dodds said, I _do_ have some experience.”

Carisi stares back at him, his face the perfect picture of surprise: jaw gaping, eyebrows raised, and eyes wide.

“You sure, Barba?” He eventually asks, tone as carefully guarded as his expression now is. For a second there it had looked like the wind had been knocked out of his sails too, maybe because he couldn’t seem to find the trap in Rafael’s words.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” Rafael points out, trying to make his face convey the kind of openness he usually sees in Carisi’s face — his usual one, not the closed book he’s currently sat opposite, the one he’s still trying to get a grasp on.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, I have a vested interest.”

He almost smiles when he sees Carisi’s features immediately shift into questioning, curiosity getting the better of him in the moment.

“You do?”

“Of course,” Rafael shrugs casually, even though his heart is pounding a mile a minute. He’s just one tongue slip away from revealing how he feels. Of course right now that’s not even an option.

“It’ll help to have another lawyer on the team,” he finally explains. “Maybe you can help everyone _else_ with their case notes.”

Rollins groans and Dodds shakes his head, but Rafael only has eyes for one man.

So as Rollins protests (“Come on, Barba, we’re really not that bad”), and Dodds chuckles lightly, he watches as Carisi flashes him a real smile. Like he read what it is that Rafael is offering: a chance to use his skills as a lawyer, even if he won’t be a practising one.

“ _You_ don’t have to spend hours deciding your own handwriting,” Rafael turns to face Rollins, his cheeks growing warm under Carisi’s gaze. He can still feel those cool eyes on him. “I’m taking all the help I can get with this.”

Rollins rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. She clearly knows he doesn’t really mean it. (Though he really won’t be turning down Carisi’s help for real. Like he’s said, he has a vested interest.)

“So, what do you say, Carisi?” Rafael turns back to him. Hopefully he’s managed to earn some good Will.

“Uh, yeah. That would be great.” Carisi nods, the look on his face disbelieving. “If you’re really up for it.”

Rafael nearly replies, “Oh, but I _am_ ” but thankfully Dodds chooses this moment to interrupt.

“Well, I know for a fact that Sonny’s free tomorrow,” he smiles brightly, not even thinking to check on his boyfriend. (For a second Rafael wonders if he’s doing this on _purpose_ , if maybe he’s sensed Rafael’s feelings after all and he’s doing this specifically to torture him.)

Carisi leans toward his boyfriend, brow furrowing in confusion. “I thought we were gonna-“

“We can do that any other time,” Dodds interrupts with total confidence. “You’re always complaining you don’t have time to study.”

“You _do_ do that a lot,” Rollins agrees. “You were complaining to Fin this morning.”

Carisi glances from one detective to the next, sputtering as he tries to come up with an explanation. If the context of this wasn’t his nascent reluctance to be aided by Rafael, the whole thing would be quite sweet. Carisi’s never really rendered speechless. Instead all it is is a dull kind of ache. A constant and terrible reminder of how he’s messed up, the chance he let slip through his fingers.

“As it happens, I _am_ free tomorrow,” Rafael interrupts. Let it be known he’s a glutton for punishment. “How does 7:00PM, at my office, sound?”

He’d have offered his apartment if Dodds weren’t here. He’d have suggested drinks after if Carisi were single.

The detective seems to have just remembered he’s still here, and what it is he just said. He blinks owlishly, apparently still at a loss for words, but then he smiles back at him brightly.

“Sounds great.” His eyes are crinkling again. Rafael wonders how it is that Dodds survives this day in and day out. He wants to drag Carisi to the bathroom and kiss him senseless right now (among other things). He wants to see if he can kiss any more of that hair loose.

“Great,” Rafael repeats thickly, mouth running dry as he tries to swallow that thought away, even if his eyes are now stuck on Carisi’s lips and the way this light has turned them pinker.

“Then it’s a date,” Dodds proudly declares.

It’s all Rafael can think of for the next hour.  
  


:::::

  
At first, it seems like 7:00PM can’t come soon enough, but then it shows up too quickly.

Rafael barely has time to tidy up his office following two meetings, first with the DA and then with someone from the Mayor’s office. (It’s not that either person is messy per se, it’s just that his files end up scattered all over the coffee table, mixed in with the latest copies of conviction stats, and there’s a ring from when the DA had set her coffee down.)

But soon enough, he manages to achieve some sense of order, a bit more than his usual attempt at tidiness. Carmen’s the only one who knows this about him, but sometimes he stays late just so he can sort through unwanted paper, gleefully feeding it to the shredder he keeps tucked under his desk. He can’t explain it, but he finds it soothing to see stray pages either tucked into folders or assembled into the pile he purposely keeps on the corner of his table; a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of a long week, the forming of thin paper strips infinitely calming.

He’s stood in the centre, surveilling his last-second handiwork, when there’s a quiet knock; muffled as if through a thick surface.

“Ready, Barba?”

As expected, he turns around to find Carisi standing in the doorway, one arm braced up against it. But the real surprise is _what_ he’s wearing under his regular brown coat: a thin grey Henley paired with skinny black jeans, the whole outfit stretching him out and making him look taller. Rafael can finally see all the muscles those suits have been hiding; and how Sonny Carisi Jr. is built like a long-distance runner.

“As I’ll ever be.” Rafael swallows and does his best to smile, struggling to stop his eyes from very obviously undressing the detective right where he stands. (Rafael can’t help but let his eyes drift down to Carisi’s chest, to the gentle curve of what have to be pecs turning into abs.)

Carisi must notice — Rafael immediately kicks himself — because his cheeks turn pink and stands straighter. “Uh, yeah. Thought I’d change into my regular study outfit. I remember more stuff when I’m comfortable.”

“Well, a memo would have been nice,” Rafael hears himself say, which is much better than: “ _If I’d known, I’d have offered earlier._ ”

He clears his throat and adds, “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t spend _all_ my time in suspenders.”

He follows it up with a smile, just in case Carisi can’t tell that he’s teasing, no longer willing to risk it. Thankfully, Carisi chuckles lightly in response, the raspy sound of it utterly charming. Rafael’s barely known it but he already misses it.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind,” Carisi fires back, cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink, which Rafael takes to be a good sign. Hopefully, Carisi’s not _too_ nervous.

Bolstered with that slight confidence and now on a roll, he turns to face Carisi properly, letting his eyes gently rake against the front of him. He’s taking as many mental photos as he can. He might never get this good an opportunity again.

“Do you plan on coming in?” Rafael smirks, filing away his last snapshot. He’d love to spend all night just staring like this, but he doubts that Carisi would find it helpful. “Or are you planning on standing there all night?”

“Oh yeah, right.”

He’s thrilled to see Carisi’s smile turn sheepish, as he ducks his head and makes his way over to the couch, long limbs making quick strides of it.

“Thanks again for doin’ this, Barba.”

It _hurts_ how earnest Carisi sounds right now — probably because he doesn’t know that Rafael would have done this in a heartbeat if he’d asked, and how much he’s kicking himself that he himself had never inquired earlier.

Still, he pretends to brush it off as he walks over to join Carisi, choosing to go _around_ the coffee table directly in front of him rather than brush up against the detective where he’s stood at the nearest seat; a choice Rafael’s certain qualifies him for sainthood.

“It’s like Mike said,” Rafael explains, approaching the other end of the couch. “I’ve been exactly where you are.”

He sits down and turns to face Carisi once more, a full seat cushion between them, Carisi now seated as well. “So who better to help you?”

Rafael’s completely unprepared for the strength of Carisi’s smile back, and the way his eyes sparkle ever so lightly. It’s like being caught up close in the beam of a lighthouse, neither unwanted or unexpected.

It’s finally broken when _Carisi_ looks away, Rafael unable to even turn from it. He manages to recover eventually, clearing his throat as he asks, “What do you need help going over?”

Carisi’s answering, but Rafael can’t hear, because he turned back at the last possible second. What had meant to be a quick glance has him watching silently as the detective peels off his jacket, and causes a stretch of pale skin to be revealed when his Henley rides up in the process.

He snaps back into it, when Carisi looks back at him, asking “Is that alright, Barba?”

Rafael nods, swallowing roughly as he tears his gaze away, trying not to think of that little flash of skin and how he wants more; how his fingers keep itching to reach out, to trace the contours of Carisi’s torso.

_An offshoot of an offshoot of an offshoot._

When he meets Carisi’s eyes, he looks faintly embarrassed, ducking his head as he looks down at the jacket in his hands, before coming back to look Rafael in the eye, eyes widening slightly.

“Sorry.” He says, cheeks pink again. “Just thought I’d make myself comfortable.”

And then, a flash of panic across his face. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Rafael doesn’t mean to sound so short, but Carisi’s question surprises him. He’d thought he’d finally put him at ease, undone some of the damage his previous words had caused him. But it would appear that he still has some work to do, so he takes another shot at damage control.

“If we’re making ourselves comfortable, you should probably call me Rafael.” He smiles quickly and looks down at his own hands. The itch has only grown stronger.

“Alright, _Rafael_ …” He can bear the smile in Carisi’s voice, looking up, he sees that he’s right — though Carisi’s now looking at him strangely, like maybe there’s something wrong with him. Before Rafael can correct him, he’s speaking again, grinning back at him proudly.

“Only if you call me _Sonny_.”

It takes everything in his power not to blurt out a deadpan, _Really?_ the way he would have once, always loving to pull Carisi’s metaphorical pigtails. But now it’s different, because things have changed, and he’s learned Carisi’s _true_ feelings on this matter. (That’s not the only reason of course. It’s also because it’s hard to imagine using it. He’s always held that name at an arm’s length, a way to stop his feelings from consuming him fully. Back when this was a smaller problem than it is now, because somewhere along the way that _happened_.)

_An offshoot of an offshoot of an offshoot._

But right now, in this instant, it doesn’t seem so terrible. It’s a small price to pay to see that smile grow on Carisi’s face, another attempt at further making amends.

“Okay, _Sonny_ ,” Rafael responds, unable to fight the smile that creeps up with it. He likes the way it feels in his mouth, the way it curls ever so lightly.

As predicted, Carisi’s grin practically explodes, reaching up into his eyes now. Rafael has never had him look at him this way before. Maybe if he’d known he’d have done _this_ earlier as well. (He has to stop himself from dwelling on that fact, on the would’ve, should’ve, could’ve-s. He’s here now and he’s doing his best. He can’t help it if Carisi and Dodds are together.)

“We should probably get started,” Rafael finally says, after seconds have passed by, of him simply staring — though, in the moment they’d stretched like bubble gum, Carisi not really looking away, and he himself barely blinking.

“Uh, yeah. Good idea,” Carisi agrees, turning over to his left. He pulls out a stack of books from what looks like his backpack. Rafael would comment, but Carisi’s speaking again.

He decides he should probably listen.  
  


::::::

  
Rafael’s grateful _he’s_ not the one taking the bar right now, because as it stands he can barely focus on a word Carisi’s saying. The detective had slid onto the middle cushion of the couch an hour ago, bringing his books and notepad with him. But after clarifying whatever query he’d had in that moment, he’s since just remained there, going through his notes. Now he’s talking through his thoughts on some other point, hands cutting into Rafael’s personal space as he keeps on gesturing wildly.

And while Rafael has no problem with any of _this_ , it’s how he knows his original problem has grown even larger.

All of _this_ used to annoy him as early as two days ago, and he’d wanted no part of it. He’d done his best to keep it all at bay, give himself distance from Carisi and all those pesky feelings that started up in his chest whenever the detective so much as glanced his way during a briefing.

But here he is, aware of Carisi’s current relationship status, and still savouring the close contact; Carisi’s knee occasionally grazing his own, his legs swinging out slightly with each new gesture. More than that, he’s been calling him _Sonny_ , only to be called “Rafael” at each turn, Carisi practically punctuating each sentence with the start of his name, like if he doesn’t say it every chance he gets, Rafael will rescind his permission.

And if all of _that_ hasn’t killed him yet, Carisi’s scent is going to get him.

Because Sonny Carisi Jr. smells faintly of tea tree oil, like he’s shampooed his hair recently. And of course that sends Rafael down the rabbit hole of Carisi’s potential shower, and if he did it just before he came here.

 _He went home and showered just to study?_ Rafael thinks, staring at Carisi’s face from the corner of his eyes, letting his gaze sweep down the side of his face, stopping when he arrives at Carisi’s lips, which are a lot pinker up close…

_He probably wanted to freshen up so he could focus._

In his chest, Rafael’s heart thumps sadly, imagining a world where all of that could have been for him. A world where Carisi might push his books aside, just so they could stay here kissing…

“Care for a drink, Sonny?”

His voice comes out a little too loud to his ears, but it’s the distraction he needs now, desperate for a little distance. He can’t keep picturing Carisi in a towel just as he was now, and he cannot let himself fixate on kissing the detective — not when he’s clearly taken.

Not when he was this close to acting on it.

“Uh, sure,” Carisi turns to look at him. Then he smiles and adds a lone “... _Rafael_.”

Heat starts to flood his face — and other parts of his anatomy — so Rafael immediately jumps up. He doesn’t even give Carisi a second look as he walks over to the cabinet that contains his scotch as fast as he can without it being weird, dodging a second armchair and his side table.

He’s just barely gotten his body to calm back down when Carisi exclaims, “Oh God. Look at the time!”

He turns to find Carisi staring at his phone. He looks up at Rafael, who meets him with raised eyebrows. “Everything alright?”

“It’s past dinner time,” Carisi explains. Rafael turns and looks at his wall clock, which reads 8:25PM. More time must have passed than he’d expected.

“Do you want to take a break so you can go eat?” Rafael asks, pouring each of them a few fingers of scotch. He hopes Carisi doesn’t take him up on that offer.

When he doesn’t get a reply, he looks over his shoulder and finds the detective just staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “Aren’t _you_ going to eat anything?”

“I usually grab something when I get home,” Rafael shrugs. It’s true. He usually grabs something from whatever’s open on Seamless.

Apparently this is the wrong answer because Carisi just frowns. “Did you at least eat lunch?”

Rafael tries to think back, but he can’t recall any meal. “Does coffee count?” He asks, remembering stopping by a bodega on his way back to the office after court.

Now, Carisi’s definitely not happy. (It’s not the time to note this, Rafael knows, but he likes the little furrow that forms in his brow, that tiny thin line that marks his displeasure.)

“Alright Rafael,” Carisi says, and there’s firmness to his voice, the kind that brooks no discussion. It sends a flurry of pleasure running up Rafael’s spine. He should have brought up his eating habits earlier.

“I’m ordering something for _both_ of us,” Carisi continues, scrolling through his phone. Rafael can make out the red banner of Grubhub. “You okay with Thai?”

 _The food or the massage_?

Rafael smiles and walks back with their drinks. “I’m surprised you didn’t go with Italian.”

That seems to put some colour in Carisi’s cheeks. He rolls his eyes as he continues scrolling through his phone.

“What? Just because I’m from Staten Island?”

“No,” Rafael argues, returning to his seat. He places Carisi’s glass in front of him, trying not to focus on the heat he’s emanating. “Because you talk about pasta _all the time_.”

Carisi looks up, shaking his head. “I do not.”

“Sonny,” Rafael says, fixing him with a look. “If they made a word cloud of the things you say, the three biggest words would be: pasta, cannoli, and tiramisu.”

Carisi rolls his eyes and goes back to scrolling through the menu. He taps a few times and then holds his phone out to Rafael. “Here. Pick what you’re getting.”

He stares at the phone and then back at Carisi’s face. That tone’s back and so is that little frown. There really doesn’t seem to be any arguing with him.

Sighing, Rafael reaches out to take it from him, their fingers brushing during the transfer.

The second that happens, Rafael’s pulse shoots up, his heart beating at _triple_ it’s usual pace. He does his best to maintain his breathing.

He can feel Carisi’s eyes on him as he goes through the menu, can feel his insistence that he order _something_. As hungry as Rafael is — and yes, he could eat — he’s having trouble focusing on the words in front of him. All he can think about is those scant few seconds, when Carisi’s fingers and his were against each other, and that jolt of pleasure that shot through him in that fleeting instant.

The problem has escalated and become so much worse. His mind can barely comprehend the words in front of him. He stares blankly at the protein options for his red curry, trying to find his tongue as he picks the highest spice rating on offer. It feels like his mouth is too dry to really form words. 

“At least let me pay half,” he manages to say when his food is in the cart. He sees that Carisi’s picked the same spice level.

He braces himself as he hands Carisi’s phone back to him. Even so, the jolt still passes through him, curling down into his toes and rocketing back up his spine. It takes everything in him not to reach out and grab Carisi’s hand, to pull him towards him and _kiss_ him.

“Come on, Rafael,” Carisi’s shaking his head as he reaches for his glass. Rafael’s grateful that he hasn’t noticed. “It’s my treat.”

Carisi gestures at the books and notes in front of him, cheeks turning pink like he’s suddenly shy. “It’s the least I can do for you helping me like this.”

“Well Sonny, it’s like I said…” Rafael holds up his glass, waiting for Sonny to _clink_ his own against it. “I have a stake in this.”

 _An offshoot of an offshoot of an offshoot_ …

“I know, I know,” Carisi rolls his eyes, even as he continues to smile, his cheeks turning redder. “You want me to help with the case notes.”

He taps his glass against Rafael’s and then goes for a sip. Rafael doesn’t — at least not right away — just sitting for a second and watching him. Carisi brings the glass to his lips and tips his head back, revealing the slender line of his neck as he swallows down a sip, Adam’s Apple bobbing gently.

Rafael stares, mouth too dry and pulse pounding in his ears as all blood rushes southward. He stares down at the glass in his hand

He might need the full bottle.

:::::  
  


He’s so deep into his thoughts involving Carisi — and his constantly moving hands and the press of his knees and the steadily growing rasp in his voice — that he barely registers him calling his name. At least not until a wide hand has landed on his knee, and he’s clicking his fingers in front of him.

“Hey. Rafael.” Carisi’s face comes into focus, a look of concern on there that Rafael hasn’t seen before. Like he’s well and truly worried. (There’s also the return of that little furrow in his brow, but Rafael is quite glad to see that.)

“Everything alright?” Carisi asks again, and it’s clear that he’s one step away from calling 9-1-1, hand already reaching for his cell phone.

“Yeah. Sorry…” Heat floods his face. His tongue feels unwieldy. “I’m just hungry, I guess.”

Carisi snorts and shakes his head. His hand stops reaching for his phone.

“That’s ‘cause coffee isn’t a full meal, Rafael.”

He fights the thrill that runs down his back at the sound of his name as he pretends to shrug. “I’ve never really noticed.”

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles, and Carisi erupts in a warm chuckle, eyes flicking down to Rafael’s waist, his cheeks warm with even the idea of it.

“I think your body would disagree.”

Rafael rolls his eyes, fighting a smile the whole time, though eventually, it gets the better of him.

“I’ll have you know, it’s part of my system,” he says coolly even though he feels anything but.

“What? Overworking yourself while you starve to death?” Carisi teases, fast and loose and _bold_ in a way he never seems to be during work hours. “Sounds like a crappy system.”

Rafael can’t help but agree, but he doesn’t want Carisi to know that. “It’s called being a lawyer.”

He’s surprised when Carisi actually grins, light chuckles bubbling out of him.

“Pretty sure I’ve seen Buchanan eat,” Carisi points out when it finally fades.

“It’s called being a _good_ lawyer,” Rafael corrects, sagely. He’s thrilled to find that Carisi’s still amused, that his smile hasn’t shrunk one iota.

“So,” Carisi says, after a few seconds have passed, turning to face Rafael properly. “What’s really on your mind?”

He’d stopped being impressed by Carisi’s detective skills a long time ago, but every now and then it shocks him just how good at his job he’s become, how much more sharply he can read people.

“Just thinking,” Rafael replies, not a complete lie — or at least one of omission.

“Oh yeah?” Carisi smiles, but does not press. The look in his eye is gentle; it’s a shallow end of a summer pond, Rafael wading in at the ankles.

He swallows, the words stuck in his throat, threatening to rush out all at once and ruin this carefully built camaraderie.

_I was thinking about you and your boyfriend._

He doesn’t say anything, his eyes focusing instead on Carisi’s lips. They look soft, sweet, and inviting.

“Yeah,” Rafael says, voice coming out steady despite how shaky he feels, his pulse practically thundering. “This reminds me of when _I_ was studying for my bar exam.”

He pries his gaze away and looks upward into Sonny’s eyes, at his quiet curiosity.

“Oh did you have to beg an ADA to help you study too?” Sonny’s tone is joking, a self deprecating dig, but there’s a note in there Rafael recognises. It’s a flash of worry that appears in his eyes, like he’s still embarrassed he’d even asked to help. Like he doubts he’s going to pass it.

“You didn’t have to beg.” Rafael says quietly, needing him to know that.

 _No. Your boyfriend did that for you_. His mind blurts out, before he kicks himself. Now’s not the time for jealousy.

It’s not Caridi’s fault Dodds asked him to help. Rafael would have done so regardless of his request. It’s just that Carisi himself hadn’t asked him. (If there’s anything Rafael feels bad about, it’s definitely that. He hates that he didn’t feel like he could come to him.)

This time it’s Carisi’s turn to look away briefly, a nervous expression taking root in his features.

Rather than let him feel any worse, Rafael finds himself speaking, the words tumbling out of him.

“And no, I didn’t ask any ADAs for help,” he says, mouth going dry. “But I did ask my boyfriend at the time if _he_ could help me study.”

He doesn’t know why he’s chosen to disclose at this time. Only that it feels right to do so. He knows an intimate detail from Carisi’s life. It’s only fair he give him one in return, though as far as he’s concerned this is a big one. Few people know of Rafael’s bisexuality, though there’s been some speculation. He’s always chosen to keep that part of him silent, from worry of professional penalisation. (As much as Rafael feels no shame for how he feels, he knows part of the job is politics. He’d joined the DA’s office at a time where being out and proud in the workplace was still unheard of.)

Not that any of this matters to Carisi right _now_ , Rafael thinks. He and Dodds probably have their own hurdles.

But _that_ seems to be the furthest thought from Carisi’s mind right now because he is straight up _beaming_ back at Rafael, like what he’s been told was the results of his upcoming exam and that he’d passed with flying colours.

Rafael blinks back in confusion, unsure how to handle this. He hadn’t anticipated _this_ particular reaction.

“Uh, you and he still…?” Carisi asks, a note in his voice that Rafael can’t quite decipher, too busy focusing on Carisi’s lips again, his mind back on the guy in question. (They used to end practice sessions by making out on the couch, both their rewards for working hard and playing hard. Knowing he and Carisi can’t do the same causes an achy twist Rafael both recognises and wasn’t expecting.)

“God. No,” Rafael chuckles, shaking his head, wishing he could reach across them. “Harvey and I parted ways years ago. He’s with some private law firm now.”

He almost follows it up with, “What about you?” A force of familiar habit. Like he could have forgotten about Mike Dodds at any point in the evening.

_An offshoot of an offshoot of an offshoot._

Across from him, Carisi’s wetting his lips, his pink tongue darting out to moisten them. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something but pauses midway, mouth half open as if he’s trying to gather his thoughts and pick his words carefully.

“Hey, uh, Rafael…” Carisi’s speaking slowly, glancing down at his hands and then back into Rafael’s eyes. His lips are smiling shyly.

“I was thinking…“

Once Rafael would have cut him off with a joke, a sly dig at Carisi’s quality of comment. But now he just wants to hear him voice that thought. He could sit here and listen for eternity.

But before he can finish, a loud noise cuts him off: Carisi’s cell phone ringing on silent. The buzz completely shattering the silence.

Carisi jumps, staring down at it. Rafael follows his gaze there, his heart in his throat, where it just keeps on speeding.

Carisi’s iPhone’s background is a photo of him and Dodds, both of them posing back to back with their arms crossed, like the poster for a sitcom from the ‘80s. It’s quickly covered by a navy blue screen and what appears to be an unknown number.

It keeps ringing… and ringing… and ringing…

Carisi looks torn, almost paralysed by what’s happening as he simply stares down at it.

The phone continues ringing.

“You should get that,” Rafael nods at the phone, the loud sound of buzzing against the table’s glass surface filling the office; the noise loud and jarring.

That seems to snap Carisi out of it, as he moves to finally answer it. He swipes and puts the phone to his ear.

“Carisi speaking.”

Rafael lets out a slow, shaky breath, doing his best to calm down. They’re both standing on some kind of edge. Only he doesn’t know if it’s the same one. Carisi’s current manner is difficult to read — and not for want of trying.

(If Rafael didn’t know better he’d have said that maybe Carisi was about to ask him out — it had certainly seemed like it. He’d dithered and sputtered like Rafael had, the first few times before Harvey. But it can’t be that because he has Dodds now. Maybe he wanted to know about more shadowing?)

Carisi hangs up and stares at the phone, brow once more furrowing.

“Uh, food’s here.” He glances up and meets Rafael’s eyes. The words just sit and hang there.

When he doesn’t say anything, Rafael nods, mouth parched like he’s stranded in a desert. “Do we need to go get it?”

It takes a moment, and then-

“Oh, yeah.” Carisi grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head with his left arm and showing off his toned bicep.

“I’ll go.” He gets to his feet, black jeans doing their job right.

Rafael tries not to think how _close_ he is now, of the warm curve of the thighs almost in his face, of the proximity of a certain other appendage.

He sits there watching Carisi leave the room, long legs moving slowly as if through quicksand. Even though he’s hungry, he doesn’t wish that Carisi would rush, enjoying this view he’s giving him.

When the door swings shut, Rafael’s head immediately falls back into the top of the couch cushion he’s leaning against, and he squeezes his eyes shut. He lets out a deep sigh, widening his thighs, aiming for any kind of comfort as he shifts in place, trying to avoid thoughts of Carisi.

He doesn’t know how much more of this he can do.

His problem has become urgent.  
  


:::::  
  


Apparently even with Carisi not in the room, Rafael can’t seem to avoid him. His blood is still hot, the seat next to him warm, and Carisi’s notes are scattered all over the place; yellow legal pages covered in messy chicken scratch, a far cry from the impressive cursive featured in his case notes. (Carisi had explained the discrepancy when he’d shadowed Rafael, saying he never wanted to mess up a case because of poor penmanship on his part. Rafael had nearly kissed him on the spot.)

From outside his door there’s a bark of laughter, causing Rafael to groan and squeeze his eyes tighter; the sound of it pure _Carisi._

He’s not surprised to hear him chat with the delivery guy, or even offer him a bottle of water, on top of what he’s sure is an already hefty tip. No, what seems to get him is the _warmth_ in Carisi’s voice, like he’s genuinely glad to have met the other guy. Like this is more than a quick transaction to him.

If anything, Rafael’s thrown by the way his heart swells, almost doubling in size at the image of Carisi that pops into his head, at the smile he’s certain he’s wearing: wide, happy, and reaching his eyes, causing them to crinkle in sheer merriment.

The Rafael of two days ago would have never tried to picture such a scene, today’s Rafael cannot help it.

He wants that smile. He wants that laugh. He wants every last part of _this_.

Almost the second he thinks that, his heart seems to _pop_ , his chest starting to ache with it. As Rafael exhales all he can think of is Mike Dodds’ face and how _he_ does get to enjoy this.

He gets to see Carisi at the end of the day, and probably first thing in the morning. He gets to hear him go on about his day, including every mundane conversation he’s probably struck up, and all the new friends he’s made in the process.

Rafael inhales slowly, then breathes out. He does that for a few more moments.

But it doesn’t work, his heart still fast, his blood still _humming_ with it. His whole body is aware that Carisi’s on the other side of the door, and he can’t seem to forget it.

And not a second too soon, the door swings open, and he learns he was right all along: Carisi’s smile is exactly how he’d pictured it, right down to the crinkles around his eyes.

“I think that’s the happiest you’ve ever been to see me,” Carisi says, his smile growing soft. “I should bring you dinner more often.”

“Careful, _Sonny_ ,” Rafael blurts out, not even bothering to fight his grin and appear more intimidating. “Keep making jokes like that, and I might just agree to let you shadow me some more.”

He means for it to sound teasing, but it comes out on the other side of honest.

Carisi seems to pause as he approaches the couch, blue eyes silently appraising him. Rafael doesn’t meet his eyes, just sets about tidying his cluttered coffee table, turning messy pages of notes into neat paper piles as quickly as he does his own scraps.

“You don’t have to do that,” Carisi says, coming to sit beside him again, he places the plastic bag of food on a recently cleared spot. “I don’t think you’re going to spill.”

“Oh, _I’m_ not the one I’m worried about,” Rafael jokes, unable to hold back from this one. He’s kept his mouth shut for most of the night. Surely Carisi can take this one.

He’s proven right, when Carisi chuckles low, a husk in his voice that wasn’t there before.

He watches as Carisi unpacks their food, the aroma growing stronger as he sets containers down across the surface of the small table. There’s Rafael’s curry and his portion of rice, and what looks like a giant box of flat noodles.

Carisi doesn’t wait to slide Rafael his food, teasingly glancing at his stomach. Rafael can’t really meet his eyes, his stomach too busy stating his case loudly.

He’s reaching over for a spoon and a fork, when his hand bumps into Carisi’s as he also reaches for chopsticks; all the plastic utensils in a tossed pile in the centre of the table.

It’s less than a second, a brief little glance, but Rafael feels it coursing through him. For a whole second he forgets his hunger, focused on the man beside him.

It seems like Carisi’s forgotten what he’d wanted to ask earlier, the moment already forgotten. Some part of Rafael aches for what he cannot know and what could have possibly come of it if they’d never been interrupted.

“Thought you were hungry,” Carisi nudges him with a smile, nodding at the food in front of him. Rafael nods, looking down at his food, not wanting to acknowledge his other, _growing_ hunger.

Next to him, Carisi seems to have no such compunctions. He snaps his chopsticks apart, then starts shovelling his pad see ew into his mouth with all the gusto of a man who loves food — which is probably the biggest understatement of the century. (Sometimes Rafael wonders why Carisi’s never became a chef, for all he talks about food while on the job; always inundating everyone with food recommendations or picking up snacks, and now even buying him dinner. _Maybe because then you wouldn’t be doing this?_ His mind supplies when he comes back to the question. He agrees and stops pressing.)

Carisi’s recommendation is right on the money, because every bite Rafael eats is better than he’d expected. He’s used to things tasting good because of his hunger, not so much in spite of it. He knows this plate of food would hold up anyways.

But all thoughts of food go out of his mind, when he hears a deep moan coming from the man beside him.

Instantly, Rafael turns, the sound causing him to shift uncomfortably. His appetite vanishes, replaced by another thirst — not that Carisi’s noticed. His eyes are shut and he’s shaking his head, truly savouring what he’s eating.

It’s not until he opens his eyes that he realises Rafael’s staring.

“What?” He asks, staring right back, looking adorably flustered.

“Sounds like you’re enjoying it,” Rafael says, barely able to get the words out, his mind playing that soundbite on a loop.

“Well, some of us don’t wait all day to eat,” Carisi replies, though his cheeks are that tell-tale pink again. And then he adds, with a bit of a smile: “ Besides, I’m a growing detective.

“You’re a growing detective with something _there_ ,” Rafael chuckles, gesturing at his mouth with his right hand, to the same place on Carisi’s face where he has a bit of stray sauce at the left corner of his lips. Unfortunately, he thinks Rafael’s gesturing to the same side, so he wipes at his lips with the back of his right hand, and misses it entirely.

“No, wait,” Rafael murmurs, reaching forward before he can give it another thought. His thumb grazes across Carisi’s lips, and swipes at that corner. He gets that bit of sauce off like he wants, and is left gently holding Sonny’s face in his hands, his fingers resting against his jaw, his thumb sat in the corner of Carisi’s lips, which are every bit as soft as he’d expected.

It hits him a moment later just what it is he’s done — and the line he’s crossed in doing so.

He glances up, straight into Carisi’s eyes, and finds him watching him back. His eyes are dark, a stormier blue, and his breaths are even and measured; Rafael can feel them, going in and out, his own breathing starting to match it.

His gaze flicks down, to where his thumb rests now, unable to really resist it, he runs the pad of it against Carisi’s lips, feeling his breath hitch when he does so…

And just like that, there’s a sudden _snap_ , and Rafael’s leaning forward. His lips are on Carisi’s hard and fast, pressing, licking, sliding. He can feel Carisi’s mouth move against his, his lips parting eagerly.

He tastes of pad see ew and years-old scotch, but also of just plain _Sonny_.

Rafael’s right hand finds purchase in Carisi’s hair, cupping the back of his head gently. He can vaguely feel hands clasping his shoulders, almost as if to steady himself, as if to hold for when they go _further_.

That’s when he remembers an all-important fact, a thought that’s been dancing just along the periphery of his memory.

 _Sonny Carisi has a boyfriend_.

Rafael pulls back with a sudden jerk, sliding back in his seat as he jumps back further. His whole being protesting against this choice, especially his lower regions. 

“Sonny, I’m sorry,” Rafael gasps, shaking his head, wondering how he could have been so foolish. He’s not only stepped over the line, but he’s made Sonny Carisi a man who would cheat on his boyfriend. “I shouldn’t have done this.”

Rafael struggles not to look up at Carisi, glancing everywhere but at his face, his own cheeks flaming hot, his own lips feeling strangely _empty_. (He’d enjoyed that kiss more than he could ever say, it having felt just how he’d imagined it. His mind has rarely ventured there, but somehow this surpassed it.)

“Tell Dodds I’m really sorry,” he finally adds, almost desperate. “And that all of this is my fault.”

He’s about to get up, to try and escape, when a hand clamps down his arm, mooring him to where he’s seated. He looks up at Carisi’s face and sees nothing but confusion — as well as lips rubbed red and mussed up hair, with eyes still dark and clouded.

“Mike?” Carisi pants. (Rafael’s not too proud to admit that he’s glad to see Carisi still feeling the effects of that kiss, when his own heart is jackrabbiting within him.)

“What’s he got to do with this?” The look on his face is one of baffled confusion.

“Rollins said you’re dating him,” Rafael answers, his mind busy cataloguing the feel of Carisi’s fingers on his arm, the easy strength evident in them.

“She called him your boyfriend.”

Carisi blinks. Then he blinks again. Then he bursts out laughing.

Rafael sits there completely stunned, never having expected _this_. He’d always thought of Carisi as someone who’d be devoted when it came to love, not someone so easily casual…

“Dodds is not my boyfriend,” Carisi eventually says, when he finally manages to calm down. Then he looks at Rafael with warm, sweet eyes, and adds, “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Oh.” It’s all he can bring himself to say, because his mind has pretty much short-circuited. Sonny Carisi has been single all along? The same Sonny Carisi he’d stopped himself kissing??

“Well, except for maybe… you?” Carisi keeps on talking. He smiles bashfully at Rafael, still smiling pretty sweetly. “I was actually trying to ask you out earlier, you know, before the whole phone thing.”

“Oh.” It’s all Rafael can still say, the gears in his mind spinning. Sonny Carisi had asked him out. The same Sonny Carisi he’d stopped himself kissing???

In front of him, Carisi’s smile has started to fade a look of worry creeping up on his face. “Thought you’d have more to say about this…”

His grip on Rafael’s arm loosens. “What? No snappy comeback?”

“Keep talking like that and there won’t _be_ a second date.” Rafael growls.

He leans forward and kisses him.  
  


:::::  
  


Rafael has a problem.

Actually, he has two problems. It’s just that he’s currently dating the first one, so the second one’s more of an annoying offshoot.

“You look happy.” Rollins grins as she joins him over at the bar, where he’s been sitting for the last half hour, nursing the same drink. Not that he really minds it. Sonny and Dodds are playing pool at a table nearby, having been challenged by Dodds’ fiancée Alice and her best friend Michelle, to a friendly game of doubles.

“What gave it away?” Rafael fires back, instead of giving her an answer.

“The outfit for one,” Rollins jokes, waving down the bartender. He nods like he knows her order. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dressed this casual before.”

He rolls his eyes and fixes her with a mock glare, even though he knows she’s teasing. “I don’t wear suspenders _all_ the time.”

“Oh I know,” she grins, a twinkle in her eye. She leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “Carisi told me.”

When she pulls back, she gives him a wink. But Rafael’s already smirking.

“You’re not the only one he talks to,” he says nodding over at his boyfriend. A quick glance tells him he’s laughing at something Dodds just said. The laughter that follows quickly confirms it.

“Oh?” Rollins replies, quirking up an eyebrow. She hops up onto the seat next to his, her left side half facing the bar, just like his left is.

“What’s he been saying now?” She reaches over for her drink.

“Well, he just happened to mention _your_ little nickname for Dodds,” Rafael saya, with the kind of confidence that comes from already possessing all the evidence needed to prove a point.

“Did he, now?” Rollins asks, sounding far from innocent.

“He also mentioned how he kept asking you to stop calling Dodds that,” Rafael explains. “You know, in case _I_ heard it.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” Rollins says, a shit-eating grin on her face. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Apology accepted,” Rafael says, giving her a smile, before looking over at Carisi. His boyfriend is bending over, about to take his shot, his jeans showing off his thighs nicely.

“Though you could have saved us both the trouble. I was actually going to ask him out that night.”

“Guess we both guessed wrong.” Rollins teases, lightly tapping her right knee against his left one. “Didn't think you were the type to make a move like that.”

Her accent grows a bit thicker. “You know, Carisi spent all night whining about how he couldn’t seem to 'find the right moment' to ask you out.”

She smiles and shrugs. “Just thought I’d help move things along a bit. You know, light a fire under one of your asses.”

“Well, thanks for that as well, then,” Rafael says, as they go to gently tap their glasses against each other. He can see Rollins’ focus is waning on him, slipping from him over to Michelle, the other woman smiling back at her coyly.

He raises his eyebrows and takes another sip, before looking over and locking eyes with Carisi. Dodds is talking, but Sonny only seems focused on Rafael, beaming at him happily.

Rafael can feel himself mirror it. 

It’s the opposite of a problem.

**Author's Note:**

> I was a bit nervous taking on this prompt because there were a few stipulations re: what my giftee wanted specifically. I hope I managed to give you what you wanted while avoiding anything you didn't. I picked this particular prompt out of all the others because I really enjoy comedies of error and the path characters take towards one another while operating under an assumption, especially if they can be filled with a slow burn and some mutual pining. Plus it gave me the chance to really plumb Rafael's depths and explore his feelings for Sonny, while slowly inching him towards accepting just how much he's come to care for it. 
> 
> I hope I got them in character and that I nailed the tension because that was something I worried about constantly. Especially because I wanted to make sure my giftee got what they wanted. It's always daunting writing something for someone else, because you want to tailor it to their wishes.
> 
> Anyway, you have any thoughts, comments, questions, or concerns, please leave them below. Or find me over on Tumblr or Twitter where I'm @rustandruin.
> 
> Hope you're keeping safe and doing alright!


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